Momoi Airi is a Trans Woman
This is headcanon at the end of the day and there's nothing wrong with disagreeing, but the way she's written regarding her sense of identity as an idol, the choice of phrasing they use when she talks about herself in reference to others (namely Shizuku), and the connections her visual motifs provide to concepts and other characters tied to or commonly seen as trans just makes it incredibly hard for me to view her otherwise.
A lot of what I have to say is very personal to me; I'm a trans woman myself, and Airi's writing and experiences connect with me and my own transition journey in a way I haven't really seen anywhere else in media (I'm not a very prolific media consumer). So it's entirely possible a lot of this is just me projecting onto a character I care a lot about. But while I've adored Airi before this revelation, I didn't reach the level of attachment I have for her until the realisation of just how well she's written through the lens of a trans girl. Specifically one who's, for the most part, entirely socially transitioned but keeping the fact she is trans secret.
When Airi was little, she was, as she herself describes, very boyish. She'd get into physical fights with boys around the neighbourhood or at school, she'd come home most days covered in dirt and mud from playing with her majority boy friend group of the time. She was intensely defensive of her little sister, most of her fights being with possibly bigger-than-her boys because they were mean to her sister. It formed a reputation for Airi, a reputation that followed her as she began to deviate from these patterns and pivot her interests and activities hard and fast thanks to starting to watch idols on TV. She was enamoured with them, would rewatch recordings of their performances and interviews over and over so she could emulate it and be more like them. She'd stop getting into fights, stop playing with her rougher friends; everything started changing dramatically thanks to her being introduced to a new "type" of woman: an idol. Something Airi wanted to become, and was willing to change everything about her to be.
These changes weren't socially easy for her, though, with backlash coming from these old friends and classmates because of how girly she was trying to become. The idea of being a tomboy was something Airi started to consider a bad thing, a gross thing. During her Colourful Festival side-story, To You Who Yearns To Be an Idol, amidst a conversation with her younger self Airi calls the little girl a tomboy, something that makes the younger Airi immediately deflate and shy away from the conversation. It upset her to be called that, especially by an idol, something she wants to become. Which leads to the younger Airi talking about how she's been treated by her peers for changing the way she dresses and not playing the same way she used to, for changing the way she talks, with her being talked to like she's doing something horrible and wrong for simply chasing a dream of who she wants to be. And in this conversation, Airi says a particular line that changed everything for me:
This is said in response to Little Airi's repeating of what the boys in her class call her as she wears cuter, girly clothes. That she's some big, mean monster who shouldn't wear things like that, who could never become an idol. Effectively telling her that she could never be a girl because of the way she used to behave. She started as someone rough, someone harsh and dirty, that's not something she should—not something she could—change. Something we see in present day that she's largely internalised through her struggles with what it means to be an idol, her struggles with calling herself an idol.
For Airi, being an Idol and being a Girl have become synonymous with each other. Her ability to be an idol, to draw that attention, have a smile that sparkles on stage and in front of the camera, spread hope and joy to other people; this part of her identity has grown beyond her job, it's who she is as an individual. Being Momoi Airi, the second year Miyajo student, is inseparable from Momoi Airi, the ex-QT member and now member of MORE MORE JUMP! And if she can't be the image of an idol that exists in her head, that she's always viewed idols to be, that Haruka and Shizuku manage to embody, that Minori is becoming, then can Airi even really call herself as much of a person, of a woman, as them?
Airi's been in this constant uphill battle where she believes she doesn't sparkle as much as the other idols around her, so she puts more effort into learning how to make herself sparkle, but manages to convince herself that because she struggles with this, she's less of an idol than those very peers. It's in large part what Ice Drop is about, Airi's difficulty finding satisfaction with her work as an idol because it doesn't shape up to her own expectations and beliefs of what an idol "should be", because it doesn't match what she sees other idols she looks up to, like Shizuku, doing. Something also portrayed during Airi's conversation with Shizuku in Chasing the Radiance Beyond the Blue Sky, where she outright tells Shizuku that because she doesn't have the same physical appeal she has to fight harder and use different strategies to get any attention as an idol. And if Shizuku is the "perfect idol", and Airi will never be able to achieve that, can she even call herself an idol?
If she can't call herself an idol, does she even deserve to call herself a girl? Or are the harsh words of her grade school classmates right about whether she should be wearing the cutesy clothes?
A large part of Airi's struggle with this, why it's even a spiral in the first place, ties into her nature as a Solid Heart student as well as why I see so much of myself and my transfemme journey in Airi's story. It doesn't matter how many people tell you that you're enough and that you've done what you set out to do, not if every thought in your head is telling you they're wrong. According to everyone I know, I pass really well as a girl. My voice is naturally feminine, even without masking it very hard, I've basically never been misgendered since growing my hair out by strangers looking at me, I've even been told by close friends that they'll forget I'm trans because I'm just "one of the girls" to so many of them. And I appreciate all of it, so much; I'm very lucky to have had such a smooth social transition. But none of that changes who I see in the mirror, who I hear when I talk, what I feel when I wake up in the morning forced to acknowledge my body. I'll never be a "real girl", not until I fix these things, and it's entirely possible that it's impossible to truly get rid of this feeling.
That's what Airi feels regarding her identity as an idol. Everyone in the world could tell her how good an idol she is, how much hope she spread as Happy Everyday, how beautiful and bright her smile is. But that will never replace or fully mask the doubt in the back of her head about whether she's really an idol, because nothing that she used to do aligns with what she's always seen idols to be, so much of what she does today is so different from the reality of her dreams. She's not that idol, so is she even an idol at all? I'm not that girl, so am I even a girl at all? Obviously I am, and obviously she is, but it's a feeling of doubt that never goes away.
Airi needs to constantly be an idol, or she's not an idol at all. And, at least to me, this has come to mean to Airi that if she's not an idol, she's not a girl. Because all of the work she put into being cute and girly was to be an idol. If she can't accomplish that, does she even deserve to be a girl at all? Or is she just a fraud wearing a mask trying to make people laugh on TV?
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Arlecchino with a daughter prt. 2
tw: Dottore (mentioned), gore(?), torture.
I’ve been hearing from Pantalone, that I am being searched for. Interesting. I sipped on tea as Pantalone had given me updates in regarding the new “successor” that had replaced me. Lyney was his name. He has a twin sister, Lynette. I have not met them before. I fiddled with the fur of my cloak, as Pantalone then switches the topic about the Northland Bank… A few weeks had passed after my exit from the House of the Hearth. I have been working alongside Pantalone to establish plans and how to manage each branch. I have learned a lot from him in regards to Mora, and how to use it effectively. In one week, I learned how to negotiate, bargain, and put someone into debt… Then on the second week, I have learned how to use different torture methods to instill fear upon people who are unable to pay their debts… By the third week… I learned how to control people. By using Mora.
So far, Pantalone has been nothing but more of a figure that I have learned to respect… Unlike “Knave”, Pantalone gives me time to explore places, areas that I have not seen before… I am free to do whatever I want to. There is no limit to what I cannot do while I am under his wing. Pantalone is more honest and straight to the point. He is not vague on wording things regarding any type of situation. He feels more familiar than the “Knave.” While I do not have any obligation or whatsoever to call him “Family”, I feel more connected to him rather than what I had with the “Knave”. Pantalone had given me permission to call him by his name, rather than his codename. I like to think that Pantalone grew on me as I grew on him too. He started little, he invites me for tea after finishing missions, gifts me things from other nations, and values my input rather than ignore it. Pantalone was never shy on telling me what life was like back then when he was once someone who had no Mora in his name…
Pantalone had told me stories about his coworker “The Doctor.” Stories that had my bone chilled even until now. He warns me to not wander off far from his radar. “Who knows what Zandik would do to you once he had set his eyes on you as another project of his” Pantalone remarked, as he shakes his head and switched topic. It seemed that he had noticed my discomfort about his coworker. Pantalone mentions that the “Knave” seemed very adamant on not believing that I was dead. My expression had hardened. Pantalone as always, caught onto it. He nods in understanding. “You’re in a better place now.” “Am I really?” “It depends on how you see it.” We then finished our tea and left to go back at his base. I encountered a few children from the House of the Hearth on the way back, their eyes widening as I walked alongside Pantalone. A child who I presumed to be Lyney, as Pantalone had described to me what the boy’s appearance was approached me. “Are you Blanche? The one who has been missing for weeks?” I stiffened at the mention of my former name, but regained my composure. “Surely you are mistaken. I am not Blanche.” I answered, staring at him curiously. Is this the person who is the “successor” of the House of the Heath? “You look exactly the same as the image “Father” had provided.” “I may look the same as the person in that photo but that isn’t me. That person is dead.” I say bluntly, scanning Lyney’s surprised expression. “But-“ I cut him off. “I am not the same person you are looking for. I am a disciple of “Regrator”. As you can see, we are busy. He is a busy man. If you’d excuse us…” I then walked away from Lyney. His twin who I assumed to be “Lynette” had come up to him and exchanged glances. I am not coming back from that place.
Pantalone surveys my expression. “You look pale.” I attempt to calm down, as I answered him in a tight voice, “I am fine.” Pantalone does not buy it. “Are you afraid that the “Knave” will take you back to the House of the Hearth?” He goes straight to the point. I then replied in a harsh tone. “She can try. But I’m not coming back. I’m never stepping foot in that place again.” I looked haunted. “If it helps, I do not intend on surrendering you to the “Knave.” You are now my disciple. Not her orphan anymore.” I attempt to at least smile a little at his attempt of comfort. “Correct. But people like her do not intend to give up easily. There will be consequences.” I sighed. “She has no other choice. I provide the funds for the Hearth. She cannot act rashly.” I then looked away from him, staring at the path ahead. “I know someday I will return to that place eventually, but in a different standing.” Pantalone nods. “You will. But as my disciple this time. You have been well informed of our upcoming schedule.” I stretched my limbs. “Duty is duty. I am bound to it. You have been accommodating enough to me that I see this more as a business opportunity rather than… Revisiting trauma.” I shakily sighed. “Whether I have any negative feelings of that place… It does not apply to the agenda. This is strictly business.” I attempt to convince myself that there is nothing more than that. But thoughts still continued to plague me on the way back to the base. We walked in silence. Pantalone does not further question me anymore.
I was left to my own devices by Pantalone to deal with an unsettled debt by an old man. I subdued the man into torture, as usual. The torture method used is to mark their skin with an iron stamp, as I cast the iron to the stamp and brand their skin with the Fatui logo, I enjoyed the screams of my victims. Before, I was afraid. Now, I am numb to it all. I left the chamber with a bloody bag of mora in hand. I report back to Pantalone that I had collected the debt, and left to write down a report for Pantalone. I then scrubbed the blood off the bag of mora. I tutted as the old man’s blood was spilled on the bag of coins. I hate filth. I hate who I was once. I am now cleared of the filth that I was once covered in. This is me now. Blanche is dead. “Disciple” is who I am now. I emerged out of the washroom as a new person. In a month, I will revisit the House of Hearth under the banner of “Regrator.” If there is anything that Pantalone had taught me best, it is the language of Mora. I am just as obsessed with Mora as well. For now, I must stay in Snezhnaya.
Freminet had been searching for Blanche for a while now. She was a calm girl who only spoke a few words. “Father” had seemed to favor her over the many children of the Hearth, which led to many despising Blanche. All but Freminet. He never hated Blanche. She was the only girl who respects his boundaries and chooses to speak with him in a manner that is comforting. She indulges him in visiting “Penguin Town.” And had once gifted him a penguin plush that is still kept by him in his room. Although their interactions are limited, but he considers her as his only friend. Freminet believes that Blanche hadn’t died. Before her disappearance, he saw Blanche rushing out of the house, seemingly in a hurry. He paid no mind to it until he saw Father asking about Blanche’s whereabouts an hour later. He then went to search for Blanche. Only to come back with a frozen bloody pin. Blanche had disappeared. No one knew where she was.
Until, Lyney had come to him to inform him of Blanche’s reappearance. Freminet was stunned to know that Blanche had chosen to not come back to the House of the Hearth. Freminet believed she will be back after being found. The man she was with had something to do with it. “Regrator”, ninth of the Fatui… Father must know of this. Lyney had said to him. He then leaves Freminet to think about the news. Blanche should have no reason not to return, she was favored, loved by Father, why else would she not return? Surely, she had not been brainwashed by the man she was with. He vows to help Blanche come to her senses so she would return to House of the Hearth, to where she will spend time with Pers and him again. He just had to convince Father to let Blanche play with him. ̶S̶̶h̶̶e̶ ̶w̶̶a̶̶s̶ ̶a̶̶l̶̶w̶̶a̶̶y̶̶s̶ ̶u̶̶n̶̶a̶̶v̶̶a̶̶i̶̶l̶̶a̶̶b̶̶l̶̶e̶ ̶t̶̶o̶ ̶p̶̶l̶̶a̶̶y̶ ̶w̶̶i̶̶t̶̶h̶.
Lyney entered Father’s office. To where Father has been waiting for updates in regards to her beloved daughter. ̶H̶̶e̶̶r̶ ̶d̶̶a̶̶u̶̶g̶̶h̶̶t̶̶e̶̶r̶ ̶w̶̶h̶̶o̶ ̶s̶̶h̶̶e̶ ̶h̶̶a̶̶d̶ ̶d̶̶e̶̶a̶̶r̶̶l̶̶y̶ ̶l̶̶o̶̶v̶̶e̶̶d̶. She had loved them so much that she didn’t want any harm to come upon her daughter… Her daughter had run away from her after what she said to her, to which Arlecchino had come to regret deeply… Perhaps she shouldn’t have said those words. ̶M̶̶a̶̶y̶̶b̶̶e̶ ̶h̶̶e̶̶r̶ ̶d̶̶a̶̶u̶̶g̶̶h̶̶t̶̶e̶̶r̶ ̶w̶̶o̶̶u̶̶l̶̶d̶'̶v̶̶e̶ ̶s̶̶t̶̶i̶̶l̶̶l̶ ̶b̶̶e̶ ̶h̶̶e̶̶r̶̶e̶ ̶b̶̶y̶ ̶t̶̶h̶̶e̶̶n̶.
Her crossed eyes had seemed to have a dangerous glow at the mention that her daughter was with Pantalone. ̶H̶̶e̶ ̶s̶̶t̶̶o̶̶l̶̶e̶ ̶h̶̶e̶̶r̶ ̶f̶̶r̶̶o̶̶m̶ ̶m̶̶e̶! Silence had engulfed the office… Before she finally spoke up. “Thank you for the report, Lyney. You may now leave…” After Lyney left, Arlecchino angrily digs her nails on her desk, leaving a claw mark. Mɏ đȺᵾǥħŧɇɍ... Ɨ wɨłł ǥɇŧ ɏøᵾ ƀȺȼꝁ...
An: Things will get more confusing once part three rolls out... There is more to it now that there's another pov... Especially "Father's." Feel free to interpret things as there will be more misunderstandings to come in the next following chapters...
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Doctor Papa
dni: k!nk, anti-agere, agepl4y, or ddlg-esque blogs 🍄 this blog is a safe space for age regressors and age dreamers 🍄
pairing: caregiver!papa!bruce banner x regressor!little!reader
characters: uncle thor, bruce banner, reader, mentions of: steve, bucky, sam, and tony stark.
summary: you have to get MRIs done but you're nervous. thank goodness, papa knows how to cheer you up.
word count: 1,751
content warnings: MRIs, hospital gown, reader is written like they're a child's height, no mention of a particular chronic illness, please tell me if i'm missing anything
author's note: tadaa!! all done! this is the most i've written for a one shot! very proud of myself. also, this is inspired by me having to get MRIs done recently ajfhs
♡
Sometimes stuff we've done lots of times can still seem scary; which is annoying because who wants to feel anxious about the same exact thing over and over again?
You have to get these scans done by tomorrow. With every heart of your being, you wished that wasn't true but your previous scans were too old.
UGH!
Luckily, your papa had a trick up his sleeve.
He told you to stay here, in this gigantic, empty, white walled room. It was utterly boring, there were no paintings or statues or anything. Not even toys! Well, okay, you had your Mr. Rainy Day Bear but still! At least there were floor to ceiling windows- OH, and a skylight, too. Those are always nice.
While you waited for Bruce to come back, you watched what went on outside. There was Tony using his latest invention to attempt to lift Uncle Thor’s hammer. Tony still had no idea that it couldn't possibly work! How silly of him.
Bucky, Sam, and Steve stood in a far apart triangle. They were tossing around the Captain America shield like a Frisbee, guffawing, and yelling things that were joyously incomprehensible. It looked like lots of fun! Definitely more fun than MRIs. Maybe, they would let you join in later.
The double doors of the empty room swung open and papa’s humongous green form entered.
“Okayyy, love bug, I've grabbed all the cardboard pieces from recycling that weren't gross.” He grimaced thinking about the black, moldy gunk that spoiled some previously useful parts. He shrunk back down to Bruce Banner size after dumping the cardboard into a large pile. “We should have enough for our little art project.”
“Art project?” You looked at him expectantly. Your eyes were actually lit up with stars of joy this time, instead of meteor shower anxiety.
The idea was to make a cardboard MRI machine. Having an art project to focus on would comfort and reassure you about the process you would go through tomorrow. If he could make it fun, your anxiety wouldn't be so bad.
“I’ve seen the machine before, papa, I can make the bestest one yet!” You hopped on your toes, giddy with tight, flapping fists.
“I grabbed your sticker books and some paint, too-”
“OH YAY, THANK YOU PAPA, THIS IS SO EXCITING!!”
Mission accomplished. Anxiety gone, replaced with magical cure Art Project™. Bruce smirked to himself.
You laid down on a tall, square cardboard piece. Bruce traced your form with a sharpie as you giggled. Once you had the correct length, you both began cutting a rectangular piece and put that piece on a metal cart with wheels.
Then, you cut out half circle pieces and hot glued them all together until it made one large 4D sphere with a hole in the middle like a donut.
At one point, the glue burned you but Papa Bruce fixed it right up and stopped the booboo pain with a cure-all kiss.
Your cardboard MRI machine may look done to outsiders but it wasn't even close. It was missing the most important part of all: the stickers! There were heart stickers, stickers with dolphins, rainbow stickers, puppy stickers, stickers that had Mr. Hulk and Papa on them, too! There were even stickers of Stevey, Bucky, Iron Man, and Uncle Thor! Papa said for your birthday he'd make stickers with you on them, too.
You also painted squiggles, polka dots, lines, circles, triangles, kitty cats, and zig zags. All of them in your most favoritest color.
“There!” You stood proudly, hands on your hips. “Now, it's very, very pretty, papa.”
Papa gave you a minute and then asked, “Are you ready to practice?”
You blinked and sighed. Defeat warping your mood. “Yeah...”
Papa spun away, put a doctor's coat on, and then turned back, holding a clipboard. “Alright, are you the caregiver for Mr. Rainy Day Bear?”
“Yeah, papa.” You lightened up a little bit.
“Papa? No, I'm Doctor Doctor. Who's papa?”
“You're papaaa!” You pointed at him.
“Okay, okay I'm Doctor Papa.” He repeated, “Are you the caregiver of Mr. Rainy Day Bear?”
You tilted your chin up and did a faux British accent. “Why, yes, sir. He's feeling very, very bad and needs a scan.”
“Ah, yes, I see that on his chart, Caregiver.” He flipped through the scribbled pages on the clipboard. “Let's have. Mr. Bear lay down on the table with his head on the pillow.” Bruce gestured with his hand.
You laid your stuffie down on the pretend bed, placing Mr. Bear’s head gently on the pillow. You patted his hand for good measure.
Doctor Papa put ear plugs into the bear's ears and placed cushy pink headphones on him. The headphones had cat ears on them. Papa raised his voice a little, “Mr. Rainy Day Bear, what kind of music do you like to listen to?”
“Doctor Papa, Mr. Bear is nonverbal.” you said matter of factly. You raised your pointer finger to the sky. “I’ll answer for him. He likes The Wiggles, Papa- I mean Doctor Papa.”
“Alrighty then, The Wiggles album coming right up.” Bruce pulled out his phone, scrolling until he found the right music. “Wiggles rave?”
You nodded, then kissed the tippity top of Rainy Day’s head. “You'll be okay, Mr. Bear.”
Bruce began to push the cardboard bed into the donut sphere. You took a big, big deep breath in.
“BRRRR BEEEP AGHHHH RRRRR DNNNN-”
That breath was immediately released back into the atmosphere. “PAPAAA!” You clutched your chest, laughing so hard your legs felt weak.
Doctor Papa continued, “DRRRRR EEEEEE EHHHHHH MRRRRRR!”
You were rolling on the floor, tears leaving your eyes. How silly of your papa!
“BRRRRRrrrrrr….” Papa rolled the cardboard bed out of the donut. “How are you feeling Mr. Bear?”
“Papa, he can't hear you!”
Bruce laughed. “Oh, yeah, right.” He removed the headphones and then the earplugs. “How is the fantastic Mr. Bear?”
You lifted Mr. Bear’s paws and had him sign to Bruce, ‘I am okay.’
“Perfect! Let's take a look at your scans here…” Papa turned around and scribbled quickly on the paper. When he faced you again, he showed you the scan. It was a poorly constructed scribble of Mr. Rainy Day Bear with a big, biiiiiiiig, heart right in the middle. “I knew it, Lots-Of-Love-itis.”
You unburied the British accent. “Quite good, sir. Well done, Mr. Bear.” You placed a hulk sticker on his paw and hugged him tightly.
Papa kneeled down and asked, “Do you want to practice with you this time?”
You gave it a thought, looking this way and that. “Hmmm, will you make the funny noises again?”
“BEEEEP BRRR-”
“Not right now, Papa!” You shouted with a smile.
“Oh, during the practice?” He waited for you to finish rolling your eyes. “Yeah, I can do that.”
“Okay…” You breathed in, out, in, and out slowly. “Let's practice, Doctor Papa.”
♡
“Big day, lille venn.” Uncle Thor said as he helped tie the back of your hospital gown. He double knotted the strings behind your neck and then the ones by your hip. “There you are. All set.”
You frowned at that, looking at Thor with big, watery eyes. “Not all set.”
“It'll be okay.” His hands (placed on your shoulders) turned you to face him. “Remember your breathing?”
“Mhm.”
“Let's do it together.” He raised his left hand as you did the same. “Climb Yggdrasil, breathe in.”
You traced up your pointer finger.
“Let's sit at the very top, hold your breath.”
You paused at the tip of your finger.
“Slide down the Yggdrasil branches, breathe out.”
You traced down your pointer finger.
Uncle Thor had you repeat that four more times, until the tears dried and the anxiety flowed further away.
“Very good, great job. Let's go see Papa.” He held your hand as he walked you towards the scary room. Worse than the boring room from yesterday.
You turned the corner and there was Papa at the computer. “Hey there! The computer’s prepped and waiting for you, little one.”
You looked at Papa, then Uncle Thor, and then Papa again. “Okay… I'm ready.”
Papa led you to the metal bed. It was rectangular and thin. A sheet was laid out on it so you wouldn't get super cold. There was a thick pillow on the end that had your favorite kitty cat pillowcase on it, which made the corners of your lips turn upwards.
Papa pressed an arrow down bottom next to the donut sphere that brought the bed down to your level. He held your hand as you hopped on and then helped position you onto the center. He guided you through a big, deep breath so that your body was as comfortable on the table as can be instead of tense.
Next came pink headphones with cutesy kitty ears on them and plain boring ear plugs so that your hearing wasn't hurt from the loud noises. Papa already set up your favorite kind of music so when the headphones were placed on you, it was already playing. Bruce furrowed his brow in question, moving his thumb up and down. You replied with a thumbs up. You were ready.
Bruce handed you a panic button to hold just in case and laid a blanket over you to keep you warm. Papa kissed the top of your head and left the room.
You closed your eyes and took a deep breath in and out.
BBRRRRRRR
‘It's okay. I'm okay.’
BEEEEEEPPP
‘Woohoo, I'm doing awesome!’
REEEEHHHHHH
‘This is boring, it's got to have been a bajillion minutes by now.’
After ten years (minutes), the machine stopped and Papa walked back into the room. He gave you a high five and bunches of praises that you only heard some of because of all the ear protectors. But you could tell by his facial expressions that he was so very proud of you.
He pressed the arrow down button again and the bed began moving to an easier height. You removed the headphones and earplugs yourself, you felt like such a big kid (in the best way)!
You stretched this way and that while making funny noises which made you abrupt into hearty giggles.
Bruce held your hand as you jumped down. Next thing you knew, he was hugging you tightly, picking you up, and spinning you around and around!
“I'm so very, very proud of you, bumble bee!”
You kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Papa!”
♡
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Hello again, I'm here to request once more. Feel free to take all the time you need btw! I would always be patient for your wonderful works ^^
This time I'd like to request from the Drabble List#2 - 47 with the 020607 Trio (mainly Mahiru though). And yes, this is hugely inspired by that one minigram with Mahiru. And as usual, feel free to change the scenario and/or the characters.
Thank you again, good luck with your future studies and take all the time you need!!
Woo thank you so much!! :'D This one was a ton of fun (and once again led me to get smacked in the face with unlikely character parallels I wasn't aware of before). It's from Kazui's pov but it's still mainly about Mahiru. I ended up going canon-compliant, but I did consider sticking super close to the minigram and do a little normal-au where Mahiru drags them across Japan to make a perfectly homemade cake 😅
Everyone knew Mahiru had a tough time distinguishing genuine from joke, but Kazui hadn’t expected it to come back to bite him. Mahiru wasn’t stupid by any means; sometimes she just forgot that others weren’t as unabashedly honest as herself. When she said something, she meant it. Kazui… not so much.
Which is why, following a conversation about her skills in the kitchen, in response to being pressed about his own household, he thought it would be inconsequential to utter the following words to her.
“Bake me a cake, and we’ll talk.”
Kazui had laughed his booming laugh, Mahiru had giggled in her sweet little way. Neither realized what had just transpired.
That is, until Yuno dragged Kazui across the prison the following day to make him aware of the monster he had released upon the kitchens. The two hurried over to find a massive operation underway: Mahiru had several layers in the works, she was stirring multiple fruit fillings, decoration choices scattered across the countertop, and anyone who dared venture too close was shooed away with a slap from her wooden spoon.
It took a few minutes to get the situation all worked out.
“So… you didn’t really want a cake…?” She asked, pausing mid-stir. Her eyes were so big and round.
Yuno came to the rescue. “Of course he does!” She interrupted. “Everyone here would die for a taste of your baking~”
Kazui nodded. “I just didn’t mean for you to work so hard for my sake. I’m really not worth all this effort…”
Mahiru’s jaw fell, offended on his behalf. “Yes you are!” Her attention was momentarily caught by a timer chiming. Kazui took the bowl from her so she could take a pan from the oven. He picked up where she left off stirring.
“Either way, why don’t I help you out?” Yuno had grabbed some ingredients from the counter as well. “While we bake, I’ll tell you a little bit about myself. A little,” he repeated.
And he did. Her questions were easier than he’d expected. While the others knew how to poke and prod about each other’s murders, Mahiru really did just want to know about his home life. While she buzzed around the kitchen switching pans and creating intricate icing patterns, she asked him about his childhood, his hobbies, his job. As soon as she saw his wife was a touchy subject, she let it drop (though with a bit of disappointment, to be sure). He scrambled a bit as Yuno the human lie detector would shoot him a look now and then. Overall, though, his measured answers managed to satisfy both women without giving much of himself away.
When they carried the spectacular cake into the common room to everyone’s amazement, Mahiru prodded him with her elbow.
“We should talk more! I mean, come on. How difficult was that?”
If only she knew the half of it.
———
“Hey, Mahiru.” Kazui traded weak smiles with Yuno as he joined her by the bed.
“Oh. Hi Kazui,” came her weak voice. She tried her best to smile under the tangle of bandages that surrounded her. Then, silence.
Aside from a few coughs and small requests, that silence stretched on for hours. He and Yuno usually had a lot to talk about, but neither could muster anything up today.
He thought Mahiru had dozed off, but she surprised him by taking his hand. “Kazui?”
“Yes?”
“Do you really think I’m unforgivable?”
He blinked. “I can’t really say.”
The moment the words left his lips, he knew they were the wrong ones. Well, the glare that Yuno was trying to murder him with also helped. “Er, I forgive you, of course. But… I don’t know anything about you, Mahiru. Not really. I can’t say why others would think you’re unforgivable or not.”
“...I see.”
Yuno looked like she wanted to add something, but couldn’t find the words. Traces of emotions flickered over her face before she could cover them up. Kazui guessed she wanted to defend Mahiru. But maybe she also agreed with him. And that was when the realization struck him.
“I guess, I always thought you were so much better than me and Yuno when it came to talking about yourself. You do it all the time, and very easily. But now that I think about it, I probably know just as much about your situation as you know about mine. For such an honest person, you hide everything just like we do. Or maybe, you hide from everything, like we do.”
More silence.
A teary smile appeared on her face. “You know… you could bake me a cake… and maybe we’ll talk.”
Kazui didn’t laugh, and she didn’t giggle. He nodded, solemnly. “I think that’s a good idea.”
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